


3 Months

by Sunbeams_84



Category: DC Extended Universe, Shazam! (2019), Shazam! | Captain Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Bad Decisions, Crack, Gen, Humor, I'm sorry I don't know how to tag, Misunderstandings, Not Beta Read, Now rated T for swearing, Secret Identity, There is exactly (1) spiderverse reference and it isn't hard to miss, This was written impulsively by someone who has never written outside of school assignments, billy accidentally cons superman, like seriously read at your own risk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-06-28 07:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19807438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunbeams_84/pseuds/Sunbeams_84
Summary: Stupid Freddy and his stupid big crush on Superman and his stupid sheepish apology he’d surely feed Billy the second he stepped back into their room, and how he’d stupidly try and make up for overstepping his boundaries by letting Billy copy his answers for chemistry and how he’d stupidly agree to let Billy use his desk for a change as penance. Freddy Freeman better have counted his lucky stars that Billy was feeling like a good brother that day, or he wouldn’t have asked Superman the question he asked next.“What I’m trying to say is… would you uh, like to join me and my manager for lunch?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based off a tumblr post that I cannot find for the love of all things good and holy. It basically went like "I wondered how Billy was able to get Superman to come to lunch but then I realized that he would totally tell Superman that Freddy had terminal cancer. 3 months to live."
> 
> As mentioned in the tags, I have absolutely no writing experience! If you have time, please hit me up with some feedback!
> 
> If I still have the motivation, I might continue this story past this first chapter. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

This entire mess had started when Billy met Superman on a rooftop, shrieked like a little girl, lit his homework on fire, and told Superman the stupidest lie that he’d ever told a person in his short 14 years of existence.

It was Freddy’s fault, really.

You see, if Freddy didn’t steal the last of his sour cream and onion chips and convinced Victor and Rosa that it was really BILLY’S fault for not putting a bigger label on his bag of chips, he would’ve been doing his chemistry homework in the comfort of his own room instead of sulking on top of a chilly rooftop in downtown Philadelphia in his adult form and avoided this mess altogether.

It wasn’t like hanging out on the roof of a 20 story building was a bad thing, really. His Shazam form (as he liked to call it) had immunity to most things, including the unforgiving winter chill that would’ve had his teenage body wrapped in at least 3 layers of clothing. The rooftop view itself was quite nice actually, and his high altitude meant that A) the blaring of the traffic below barely reached him and B) he had the utmost privacy, which was a privilege given he lived in a house with 6 other kids. The only problem was that in order to do his homework in the open at sub-zero temperatures, he had to be in his adult form. Which meant uncomfortable magic spandex, his cape blowing into his face at sporadic intervals, and -

SNAP!

A surplus of pencils given his super-strength enhanced grip. He sighed, chucking the broken pencil as far as he could - which was at _least_ a few miles - and pulling another one out of the pencil case he so aptly “borrowed” from Freddy before he stormed out the door - er, window.

Unfortunately, fate had decided that the combination of solving redox equations and the above wasn’t nearly enough suffering to fulfil the official Billy Batson Suffering Quota (tm) on that particular Sunday night. Which was why when Superman landed behind him and put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, Billy reacted by screaming at a pitch he didn’t know he was able to achieve in either of his forms, and jumping (quite literally) 5 feet in the air.

“Holey Moley! You’re Superman!” Billy screamed, trying to regain his balance in mid air. Superman stared on with an amused expression as the teenage superhero floated down at a much more controlled pace than which he ascended at. It took Billy one look at Superman’s poorly-hidden smile for him to realise that he he had slipped back into his habit of waving his hands around (he couldn’t help it! It was _Superman!_ ) and talking in the higher pitch he was much more used to talking at in his normal form. He snapped his arms behind his back, and attempted to start over by clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry for my uh... unprofessional behaviour. It’s uh, a real pleasure to meet you. Uh. Sir.” He attempted to soothe his scratchy voice into a calmer monotone, but judging by Superman’s still present grin, he was failing miserably.

“It appears like there is no need to introduce myself, but - is that a chemistry worksheet?” Superman’s normally baby blue eyes suddenly turned into a much more electric blue, and somehow Billy just _knew_ that he was using his x-ray vision (did he know Superman had x-ray vision before?) to peer behind his back.

Billys hands suddenly crackled with electricity, instantly lighting the said worksheet on fire.

_Play dumb, play dumb!_

“Uh, w-what’s chemistry?” He stuttered out, trying to hide the flaming remains of his homework. He winced internally.

_Not that dumb!_

Superman raised an eyebrow, but mercifully decided to drop the subject. Was it because he was still bemused by Billy’s poor attempt at acting mature? Or was it because he had more pressing matters to discuss other than the red-clad superhero’s antics? Either way, the Kyrptonian superhero paid no mind to Billy’s clearly suspicious behaviour, and continued on like nothing had ever happened.

“Moving on, I’m here to discuss two things with you. First, the Justice League…”  
  
Billy tried to pay attention, but once it was clear that Superman wasn’t going to invite him into the League (I mean fair enough, he supposed, they couldn’t just invite every super powered vigilante they saw on youtube) and it was obvious that he reciting some sort of superhero terms and conditions that Batman had probably fed him, he started zoning out. He couldn’t help it, okay?! He was in front of Super-freaking-Man! He had more important things to do, like admire the quality of his suit’s fabric, how his cape seemed to bellow in the wind despite the lack of even the slightest breeze, how his chiseled abs looked like it would shave parmesan-

Billy stopped himself there. Man-crushing on Superman was Freddy’s thing, not his. He was 100% attracted to girls. Straight as a line. Nothing against anyone that wasn’t, no sir, but he was very comfortable with the fact that he was in fact, a heterosexual. But hey, if he had to rethink his sexuality, he wouldn’t deny that Superman would be the most likely cause.

Superman ended his speech with a drawn out sigh, his hands now resting on his hips. “Now _that_ mandatory self-righteous speech is out of the way, we can move onto the second topic-“It was at this moment that the foster kid suddenly realised he was _taller_ than _Superman_ “-Me and er, other members of the League are more than a bit concerned about your…lack of training. Batman was convinced for awhile that your youtube videos were just a clever PR stunt, meant to “show your human side” and blah blah blah -“ Did Superman always sound this casual on television? “-This isn’t a demand or anything, just a request, but we’d like you to come train with the Justice League.”

Billy blinked. Did he hear that correctly?

“I’m sorry, the _League_ wants _me_ to join them?”  
  
Superman startled. “Oh No! Sorry, not an invitation into the League! Sorry, it’s a… pretty difficult selection process. You wouldn’t be an official member, but we would be more than happy to give you… tips and tricks on Superheroing 101? This offer is extended to your teammates as well, by the way, the ones wearing the same uniform as you that showed up on the night of the Christmas Carnival on TV. In fact, that’s kind of why I’m here?” It sounded more like a question, but Billy barely noticed the waver in confidence. “I’ve noticed our powers have a lot in common, and seeing as you don’t seem to quite have a handle on them, we can plan to meet up for… I really have no other way to phrase it. Superhero tutoring.”

Billy short-circuited. He wasn’t formally invited into the Justice League, but who cares? They were willing to associate with him, Billy Batson! The 14-year-old former runaway with a list of “disciplinary issues” thicker than a novel! Well, they weren’t really associating with Billy Batson per se, they were extending contact with the 6 foot tall magical demigod who saved the world from a megalomaniac bent on ultimate power. There was quite a bit of distinction between the two, but Billy was taking what he could get.

“Absolutely!” He yelled, startling the more experienced hero. He froze, shocked by the volume of his own voice. He lowered it significantly, trying his best not to sound like a kid on Christmas. “Sorry! Um, I mean I would absolutely want to join that. Would that mean that we would like, arrange to meet up and stuff? Would it just be with you? Or will I be meeting the rest of the Justice League? Sorry I’m talking so fast I’m just really excited about this and - wait, would you basically be like, my superhero mentor? Like, teaching me the ropes and imparting life lessons and stuff in… private? How would I make contact with you? By the way my manger - he’s like 14 and he runs my youtube channel by the way but don’t underestimate him- is a huge fan of you and if we’re going to be doing this Superhero training thing maybe we could uh, meet up? For a casual event? Just to bond and stuff?”

Stupid Freddy and his stupid big crush on Superman and his stupid sheepish apology he’d surely feed Billy the second he stepped back into their room, and how he’d stupidly try and make up for overstepping his boundaries by letting Billy copy his answers for chemistry and how he’d stupidly agree to let Billy use his desk for a change as penance. Freddy Freeman better have counted his lucky stars that Billy was feeling like a good brother that day, or he wouldn’t have asked Superman the question he asked next.

“What I’m trying to say is… would you uh, like to join me and my manager for lunch?”

Superman gave him… a look. He couldn’t really tell _what_ that look was suggesting, whether it was a good kind of look or a bad one, but it made Billy’s anxiety shoot through the roof. Why would he want treat lunch with some rookie hero and some random high school kid? He was _Superman_! He had better things to do! It wasn’t like this was a Wish for Kids program or anything _or wait maybe it could be-_

“It would mean the world to him. He’s got terminal cancer, 3 months to live.”

“What?” What indeed, Superman! Why had he said that?? He cursed his loose mouth, but it was too late now.

_“_ He uh, doesn’t like talking about it, he isn’t bedridden or anything like that he still goes to school and stuff and he’s got a really good sense of humour - sorry I’m rambling again aren’t I? But he’s got it _really_ bad and the cancer is uh, spreading further up his uh, leg every day and it would mean a lot for him to meet Superman. In person. Before he um, kicks the bucket.”

“Oh, that’s… terrible. Of course I could meet this kid. Would tomorrow be ok? Tell me a time and a place, and I’ll be sure to turn up.”

Billy was incredibly thankful that his brain was basically running on autopilot at this point, because he was able to stammer out a time and the school’s address in a relatively cohesive manner before the regal Superhero flew off the rooftop, most likely back to Metropolis for dinner or crimefighting or whatever extraterrestrial superheroes did after 8 PM.

As soon as Superman left his field of vision (which took about 2 seconds), he felt a strong urge to throw himself into the void. He had conned Superman! It wasn’t even something to be proud of! It was like kicking a puppy, except the puppy was a fully-grown Doberman that could vaporise you with laser eyes for lying straight to his face! As a void was not readily accessible to him at the moment, he did the closest available thing to jumping into an abyss of nothingness.

He jumped off the building.


	2. Chapter 2

Billy was acting… strange, in his opinion. Granted, he had only known him for a little more than a month, but Freddy liked to think he knew Billy almost as well as he knew himself.Spending Iike, basically 90% of your time with a single person consistently over the course of several weeks tended to force people to know each other a bit better. But honestly, it didn’t take a certified Billy Batson expert to notice something was off.

Billy was doing that weird arm-waving thing again.

Honestly, watching the brunette do his weird fidgety, twitchy dance was so damn entertaining that he had discarded his Superman comic in exchange for watching his foster brother perform his strange ritual. He’d been watching it so long, in fact, that he had memorized it to a T. First, he’d scribble down a few letters and numbers over his worksheet. Afterwards, he’d brush his fingers through his hair, attempting to push back his bangs despite the fact that they were never in the way to begin with. Then, he’d drop his pencil altogether and cusp his head within his hands, muttering nervously as he span his chair around. And for the finale, he’d throw his arms into the air, hold the pose for a few seconds, before realizing he looked incredibly stupid and turning back to his homework.

Freddy watched Billy do this five or six times before the boy abruptly stopped, swiveling his chair to face Freddy. The curly-haired boy immediately straightened up and turned his head away, acting as if he hadn’t been staring at his foster brother and internally mocking him for 10 minutes.

Billy looked uncharacteristically nervous. “Freddy, if someone… dressed in blue asks you about canc- uh, never mind, forget I said anything.”

Dressed in blue _?_ Cans? That wasn’t vague at all. What on earth could Billy be talking about - a thought suddenly occurred to him.

“Dressed in … blue? The cops? Are you talking about the cops, Batson? Don’t tell me you stole another cruiser!”

Billy snapped his head back in Freddy’s direction, giving his roommate a withering glare. “That was one time, Freddy! One time!” Freddy raised a singular eyebrow, showing that he still had his doubts.“Oh my god. You seriously think I stole a goddamn cop’s car,” Billy groaned.

  
“You’ve done it before!” Freddy cried out defensively. Billy sighed in exasperation as if he couldn’t believe they were even having this conversation. Clearly, Billy regretted telling Freddy about that particular anecdote.

“No Freddy, I’m a Superhero. Why would I need to steal a cruiser anyways? I’m not looking for my mo-” Billy choked, as if someone had suddenly punched him in the gut. A… strangely sorrowful look passed through his eyes, but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared. “I’m not looking for Marilyn anymore, and I don’t need to drive given that you know, I have flight _and_ superspeed.“ Billy gave Freddy one last scowl, before turning back to his newly reprinted chemistry homework. “I told you to forget it, Freeman, just drop it already.”

“Someone’s a bit cranky,” Freddy muttered under his breath, clearly aware that Billy was within earshot. He expected the volatile teen to respond to his taunt, either with an annoying string of swears or a middle finger. But surprisingly, Billy didn’t react. What gives?

If Freddy didn’t know any better, he would’ve attributed Billy’s unusually bad mood to the chip incident just a few hours prior. But no matter how Billy tried, he was absolutely terrible at holding a grudge. Plus, he had already apologized profusely, offered to reprint his homework _and_ let him copy off his sheet. Even if there was some lingering resentment, Freddy’s intense ass-kissing should’ve at least lessened the animosity. Honestly, there were a thousand possible reasons why Billy was acting moody. Well, moodi _er_. But while Billy couldn’t hold a grudge, he was stupidly _stubborn_. If Billy wanted to keep quiet about something, almost nothing could pry his lips open.

Billy suddenly slammed his pencil on the desk. “Finally! I’m done!” He hollered, pumping his fist in the air.

Freddy jumped, startled by the sudden noise. “Finally? That took you like, 10 minutes!”

Billy blinked owlishly. “Really? Huh, that felt much longer,” he commented dazedly, already stumbling towards the bunk bed. With one large heave, Billy pulled himself into the upper bed, causing the mattress above to creak loudly. Freddy added another mental tick in the “Odd Billy Batson Behaviours” tally. Billy Batson, the infamous night owl of the Vasquez household? Wanting to sleep earlier than midnight? Something was _really_ wrong.

“Billy, you better tell me whatever the fuck is going on with you, or I’ll tell Darla to bedazzle your favorite red hoodie,” he threatened. He heard the other teenage boy sharply inhale, followed by a quiet string of curses. Apparently, the threat of having his signature red hoodie turn into Darla’s latest arts and crafts project was enough to make the stubborn boy relent.

“Fine,” Billy grumbled. “I’ll tell you tomorrow at lunch. G’night.”

“I’m holding you to that promise, Batson. Goodnight,” Freddy muttered while sliding under his covers. As Freddy quickly into unconsciousness, he resolved himself to drop the matter entirely until lunch…

——

…It was lunch. Freddy sincerely regretted not pushing the matter.

If someone told Freddy Freeman from a month prior that he’d be sitting a lunch table with 4 of his foster siblings, his newest brother in the form of chiseled superhero, and _Superman himself_ , he would probably ask that hypothetical person how much weed they were smoking. But if that same person chose to instead warn Freddy Freeman from 24 hours ago about what was going to transpire, he would’ve immediately punched Billy in the face.

Honestly, if _literal friggin Superman_ wasn’t sitting less than a foot away from him (picking curiously at what the high school population had dubbed the “Mystery Meat”), he would’ve punched Billy square in the face, even if the entire school was watching. Honestly, it wasn’t Superman’s presence itself that bothered him. That part was great. He didn’t know what kind of strings Billy had been pulling as Captain Sparklefingers, but Freddy approved of his networking and would 100% be up to future superhero encounters. No, the part that bothered him the most as that Billy had kind of, you know, _forgot to tell him in advance_.

Like seriously! How hard would it have been for Billy to crawl through his window last night and warn him with a simple “Heads up Freddy, Superman may or may not be sitting with you tomorrow at lunch to boost your street cred!” Or even a “Thanks for letting me copy your homework and being an awesome brother Freddy! Maybe this is a good time to let you know I’ve booked an appointment with Superman!” Like Jesus! Freddy had tumbled out of the house this morning wearing the same shirt he had been wearing for a week straight, and since Mary had hogged the bathroom this morning, he had to skip taming his hair and brushing his teeth altogether! Meeting Superman? The best thing that had ever happened to Freddy, period. Meeting Superman without any prior warning to make himself look presentable? The most embarrassing moment in his entire life. And hey, this was coming from a person who got wedgies from the Bryer brothers on a daily basis.

Thankfully, Superman either didn’t have a full arsenal of super-senses as the comics depicted or decided to politely ignore Freddy’s week-old laundry odor. The superhero fanatic sincerely hoped it was the former because if it was the latter he would literally bury himself alive in shame.

“So young man, I understand that you are currently in your ... 10th year of education? Have you been thinking about what you want to do in the future?” Superman said, trying to break the ice.  
  
Woah. Freddy? Getting career counseling from his favorite Superhero since he was like, ten? If his life hadn’t been turned upside down approximately half a month ago with the revelations of “ _Holy shit magic exists”_ and _“Holy shit my foster brother is a superhero_ ”, Freddy Freeman would’ve most definitely fainted right there and then.

“Umm… I’d like to go to college, but I’m not really sure I’ll even make it at this rate...” he muttered. Like seriously. He was barely maintaining a C-average thanks to his recent skipping spree, and he would be bewildered if any colleges were willing to take him in, despite his garbage GPA and attendance record. Superman’s friendly smile faltered a bit, and Freddy internally panicked.

“BUT UH. Supposing I did make it into college, I think I would want to get… a degree in journalism?”  
  
“Oh?” Something in Superman’s eye glittered, and the disabled teen could’ve _sworn_ the Kryptonian straightened his back a bit. “Why Journalism?”

“Uh.” _Wooow. Eloquent as always Freeman,_ he internally cursed himself. _You’ve had this talk countless times with Victor and Mary, why is your motor mouth tripping up now?_

_Oh I don’t know, maybe because I’m talking to literally the greatest superhero of all time???_ He refuted, realizing at that very moment that he had been unwittingly making eye contact with Superman for way longer than what was socially acceptable. He snapped out of it, opting to look down at his food instead, stabbing an unlucky piece of broccoli.

“I… just think it’s cool?” The more Freddy talked, the more he felt like punching himself. He quickly corrected himself before Superman thought he was a complete idiot. “I mean, I’ve always looked up to superheroes - I mean who _doesn’t_ \- but I’ve always looked up to reporters as well? I mean, they’re kind of like unsung heroes, but I guess you can say that about any profession. Like firefighters. Or doctors. Um. Let me restart.” He looked nervously at the alien superhero, looking for any trace of boredom or disinterest people usually showed him when he started rambling. Surprisingly enough, Superman still looked like he was on board. The older man’s piercing blue eyes made contact with his. The hero seemed… almost curious? Expectant maybe? It definitely wasn’t something negative, so he took a deep breath, and started over.

“It’s really hard to put into words, but I’ve always admired how reporters do so much, yet get so little recognition for it. Like seriously. They find a topic they think the public should be informed about, do an ungodly amount of detective work and research in some cases, try and fit it into one cohesive article, then send it out for the world to see. But what do they get in return, besides uh, their paycheck? Nothing really. Maybe someone notices the name of the author, but unless they’re fact-checking or using it for MLA citation it quickly gets forgotten. And soon, not only is the author forgotten but so is the article itself. It’s a constant race to see who has the latest and most recent information to offer, and it never ends seeing as the world is always in a complete state of anarchy. I mean, we have freaking vigilantes dressed up in bat costumes, and _aliens_ coming down to fight crime in spandex - uh, no offense Superman. Without reporters, we wouldn’t really know… anything? Well, not anything, but it’d be like in medical times where news was spread via word of mouth and like, a messenger sent by the King goes around for a month yelling ‘hear ye, hear ye’… maybe that isn't the best metaphor, but you know what I mean,” he hastily ended, stopping to catch his breath. Superman’s eyes seemed… brighter? Happier? His mouth curled slightly upwards as if he was trying to keep himself from grinning, but couldn’t fully suppress it. Superman seemed to hide a lot of smiles, which was ironic considering how he was kind of known for them ( _cough cough Batman cough_ ).

“But the news industry… isn’t exactly easy to get into? I mean like the big companies, not like local town papers,” he hastily corrected. “That’s why I want to go to college for it. Learn to write cohesively, make some connections, learn from the best, all that jazz…” he trailed off, tensing up as he realized he had spent the last few minutes talking about himself like a narcissist. “I’m so sorry! I’m rambling again! Victor and Rosa always say I talk too much and it’s kind of true but I didn’t really think it was _that_ true and-“  
  
Superman chuckled. It wasn’t a mocking sort of laugh, just a… soft, warm one. Like he was laughing with you, not at you. It was as if someone had concentrated sunshine converted from a light into a sound. Freddy couldn’t quite place what it exactly sounded like other than vaguely bell-like, but it made him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.

“So, you want to learn from the best? Well, what if I told you that I could give you Lois Lane’s number?” Freddy’s brain froze for the 724th time that day. He must’ve overslept his alarm. There’s no way this was actually happening.

“Lois Lane??? Two-time Pulitzer award winner???” He whisper-yelled, desperately trying not to alert every other table in the general vicinity. not to alert the other lunch tables. Even with his foster siblings acting basically as security guards, standing in a protective semi-circle around the lunch table to shoo away any other classmates, it was stupidly hard to get the people that had only been mocking him a week prior to buzz off. It was only when Billy had excused himself to sign autographs or whatever had the crowd thinned a bit and backed off. If Freddy even as much showed a hint of weakness, he was absolutely sure that his fellow high schoolers would come swarming in like sharks. He desperately tried to quell the giddiness in his stomach, and forced himself to talk in a slightly calmer tone.

“Wait. Why do you have an award-winning Journalists number?” He asked, genuinely confused.

Superman leaned in, cupping a hand around Freddy’s ear. “How do you think she’s able to score so many exclusive interviews with me?” He whispered coyly.

If Billy wasn’t busy pleasing his teenage fans, he would definitely pulled out his cellphone to snap a picture of Freddy’s shellshocked expression. Yeah no. Fuck magic and superpowered foster brothers. This was by far the most surreal thing he had ever experienced in his (admittedly short) life. But as soon as the shock wore out (which as pretty quick, considering how numb he seemed to be getting with all these life-shattering revelations one after the other), he was hit with a sobering realization.

“You aren’t doing this because of this,” he vaguely gestured towards his bad leg, “Are you?”

Freddy expected Superman to act at least a little flustered, or at least divert his gaze, but the superhero’s gaze was steadfast and unwavering. “No. This was done for many reasons Freddy Freeman, but pity was not one of them.”

Freddy was used to adults lying to him. They weren’t always done with bad intentions: sometimes, they were kind ones.

_Your leg will get better, it just needs a bit of time._

_Your parents are just a bit busy, sweetie. They’ll visit you eventually._

_The ______ family will just look after you for a few days while your parents... sort out a few things, that’s all._

If this were anyone else, he would’ve called them out on their bullshit. But Superman... yeah, he always looked sad when he glanced at Freddy’s leg for a little too long, but it wasn’t sympathy. It was empathy. He instinctively _knew_ that Superman had once upon a time, felt as bitter and frustrated as Freddy was now.

For once, he knew it was the truth.

“Soo... you’re just. Gonna give me Lois Lanes number? Isn’t she going to be curious about the random 14-year-old boy that inexplicably got hold of her number? Like, not that I’m not grateful or anything,” he hastily added. “I just don’t want her to think I’m a stalker or a prank caller or something.”

Superman grinned. Not one his half-hidden smiles or the polite smiles he has plastered on during interviews. It was full and genuine, with only a hint of mischief. “Don’t worry, I’ll let her know I referred her to you: I’m sure she would be more than willing to give you some pointers in exchange for an interview on today’s lunch,” he explained.

_Oh yeah,_ Freddy thought. _This is probably gonna be breaking news. Philadelphia’s new superhero’s first public appearance with Superman at a high school lunch with some crippled kid._

He tried to squash down his nervousness. With his heated argument with Billy on TV coupled with today’s lunch, there was no way that people wouldn’t be curious about how some random kid seemed to personally know not one, but two superheroes. _But hey,_ he desperately reassured himself. _On the flip side, maybe the Bryer brothers will finally back off!_

Freddy’s conversation with Superman was surprisingly mundane after that. They talked about topics such as the weather, how bad the school’s lunch was, and unsurprisingly enough, Freddy’s family.

(“So... how many foster siblings do you have again?”

“Six, including me. Victor and Rosa kind of have a child-hoarding problem. If they weren’t awesome parents, I’d call them weird.”

“Oh trust me, I know the feeling. I know someone with the exact same problem.”)

The 45-minute lunch period was over in a flash. The second the bell rung, everyone in the cafeteria gave one synchronized groan of disappointment.

“Um, sorry kids! It was nice meeting you all, but Superman and I have... superhero appointments to catch. Like, saving cats out of trees and stuff,” Billy stammered. The crowd chuckled, laughing at what they thought was a joke. Heck, if it weren’t for the panicked look in his brother’s eyes, he would’ve believed it was something other than Billy’s complete lack of social skills.

As Freddy fumbled around for his crutch, Superman arose from his chair. The older man turned away from Freddy, seemingly preoccupied with the wrinkles in his cape. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Freddy Freeman. I look forward to when destiny decides we meet again.”

“Uh yeah! Same here! Well, I don’t _actually_ think we’ll ever get the chance to meet again but-“

**_“I look forward to when destiny decides we meet again.”_ **

Freddy instinctively froze, taken aback at Superman’s inexplicably _powerful_ voice. The man was no longer looking down at the table, but _straight at him_. Well, that itself wasn’t anything to get excited over. They had made eye contact plenty of times over the course of the meeting, after all. But there was something… intimidating about the Kryptonian in general. It wasn’t like the man looked tense or angry: if anything, he looked more relaxed than Freddy had ever seen him before. His gaze, his voice, his posture: he felt like he stood in front of a regal lion, who not only demanded to be listened to, but also obeyed. He felt trapped by the man’s gaze, feeling as if he even so much as blinked the wrong way, he would be reduced to a pile of ash.

_I look forward to when destiny decides we meet again._ Those words had sounded so innocuous at first. But… the way he worded it. Not if destiny decides, but _when destiny decides._

As the wide-eyed teen continued to stand like a deer in the headlights, Superman seemed to snap out of whatever stupor he had been in and quickly looked the other way. The release of tension was so relieving that if Freddy wasn’t already sitting down, he would’ve collapsed in relief right there and then.

“I’m sorry. Goodbye.” The imposing atmosphere vanished almost instantly, and before Freddy could process the genuine guilt etched onto Superman’s face-

_WHOOSH!_

\- the hero was gone.

Freddy blinked. _Huh. That was… interesting,_ he thought to himself. Given the paralyzing fear he had felt only moments prior, Freddy was, quite bluntly, too shocked to think about what had just happened by himself. Instead, he decided it would be a much better idea to go vent about the entire ordeal to Billy. His brother had long since ducked out to the toilet and came back in his normal form, making it much easier to approach him. Once again he reached for his crutch, pushing himself off the chair and hobbling over to where Billy stood.

“Dude meeting Superman was the coolest thing that has ever happened to me period. To be honest I was like this close to fainting when I saw him like oh my god I’ve had posters of him up in my room since I was 8 how could I not freak out-“ Despite the fact that he was perfectly aware that Billy had probably heard 90% of the exchange, Freddy continued to recount everything that had happened to him in the last few minutes, albeit in nonchronological order.

About a minute into his excited blathering, he realized Billy wasn’t really listening. The boy had a slightly nauseous expression on his face, but Freddy chalked it up to social exhaustion. Billy never did well with big crowds of people, no matter how much he preened under attention. If it were any other day, he would’ve at least asked how his newest brother was doing. But today, Freddy didn’t particularly care. He just needed this out of his system; Billy would survive another few minutes of talking before they reached the Chemistry lab.

“Honestly?? The way Superman said goodbye was super weird. Like dude, did you hear what Superman said at the end?? Oh my god I thought I was going to die that was by far the scariest thing that has ever happened to me and like he said something about destiny and being strangely insistent on meeting him again-“ Billy’s speed suddenly picked up, forcing Freddy to limp a bit faster. “-Honestly judging by how dramatic he was being you would think I was dying of cancer or something.” The older boy stopped dead in his tracks, nearly causing Freddy to trip over his own crutch. “Billy? What the hell is up with you?”

Freddy sharply turned his head to face Billy. The boy’s green eyes were widened to almost comical levels. Everything from his tensed shoulders and his frozen expression just screamed that something had spooked him. But what? Was it something Freddy had said to h-

It clicked. Billy’s comment before bed, Superman’s weird attitude towards his leg... the pieces fit together like a jigsaw puzzle in his head, and he came to one terrifying conclusion.

“Batson?” Freddy’s voice was eerily calm. Billy swiveled his head to face Freddy, gulping the second their eyes met. “Be honest with me. Did… you tell Superman I had cancer?”

Billy didn’t say a word, but the way his eyes darted away gave him his answer. Freddy took a deep breath.

**“ _BILLY I SWEAR TO GOD-_ “**

And that was when Billy Batson, the Earth’s Chosen Champion, Wielder of the Wizard’s Power, and World’s Mightiest Mortal, made the Solomon-worthy decision to bolt the other way before his murderous brother could swing his crutch directly into his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks my motivation hasn't completely run dry! Let's see how many words I can barf into the screen before I run out of juice!
> 
> This was originally going to be in Billy's point of view, but Billy was hard to write so I switched to Freddy ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I have plans for one more chapter! Look forward to that!


End file.
